


Swamp Lovin'

by Grimmy88



Category: Left 4 Dead 2, Nellis - Fandom
Genre: M/M, swamp sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-26
Updated: 2013-11-26
Packaged: 2018-01-02 16:59:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1059323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grimmy88/pseuds/Grimmy88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A PWP written quite a while ago!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Swamp Lovin'

            Ellis couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t see. And he couldn’t move.

            The swamp water was thick and dark and full of mud. He felt as if it was slathered over his body, weighing him down in the crushing liquid. Of course that wasn’t what was weighing him down. A Hunter had caught him after he’d foolishly charged ahead of his friends with his chainsaw. Unfortunately for him at that moment the Hunter had been waiting, atop the mangled airplane, for one such survivor to make such a drastic mistake.

            Or at least that’s what it always seemed like to him when it came to the special zombies.

            The jumper had hurdled into his back and he’d all but flown off the crooked wing of the plane. Luckily the chainsaw had sprung from his hands, otherwise he would’ve landed chest first atop the whirring machine. As it were he went face down into the deep-enough water and the Hunter remained straddling his back.

            The water did have one perk: it slowed the violence of the Hunter’s clawing. Sometimes the nails would miss him completely, others would graze his shirt, and the ones that did cut him weren’t deep.

            But he wasn’t too worried about the Hunter killing him considering he’d lost all his breath when the weight had crushed into his back. And there was no way to replenish it.

            And he didn’t know _why_ his teammates were waiting so long to save him.

            When the weight finally lifted off him he all but lunged up and sucked in the air in a screaming gasp. He slipped once, delirious and dizzy from the lack of air, pawing at the water before he could right himself. Behind him a chainsaw buzzed and then gurgled as it sawed into the chest cavity of a zombie.

            Ellis wiped the mud from his face and turned, sucking his breaths hard, to where Nick was walking back to him, the chainsaw blade almost as red as the conman’s suit. The Hunter’s body – or what was left of it – floated behind him.

            Nick stopped next to him and held out a hand. “You okay, kid?”

            The mechanic was about to take it when he felt the dirty water drip from his hair. From his hair and not the brim of his hat. “Shit!” He dug his hands back down in the mud, up to his forearms. “Shit, shit, shit!”

            “Hey! HEY!”

            Ellis didn’t look up until Nick draped the muddy hat in front of his face. “Would you calm the FUCK down?!”

            He took the brim of the hat gently, gingerly and slowly stood. “Sorry. This is my work hat. It’s important.”

            “It’s a _hat_.”

            “Well… it’s like your suit.”

            Nick’s annoyed face broke away with a sigh and quick flick of the tongue over his bottom lip. Ellis noticed the older man did it whenever he was in the process of calming himself as if giving a pause to consider the words trying to spill out of those lips. He’d started doing it after the redneck had made him laugh in regards to their journey through the tunnel of love.

            Ellis tried to pick the mud off the hat, not wanting to smear it in, and kept his eyes downward. “Where’s Ro an’ Coach?”

            “Well, if your stupid ass would’ve listened instead of running out with that fucking chainsaw _whooping_ you would’ve heard me screaming about the Tank.”

            The southerner looked around for the enlarged body before drawing his blue eyes back to Nick. The other man was checking his assault rifle but glanced up as if feeling the eyes on him.

            “Where?”

            “They ran in the opposite direction,” Nick stated, voice and face grim. “…Wouldn’t blame them if they just kept moving. So we’re gonna do the same.”

            “What if they come back lookin’?”

            Nick was already walking, the sound of his legs through the thick water masking his voice. So Ellis trudged after as quick as he could. “What?”

            “Again, not listening.”

            Ellis chewed the inside of his cheek and looked back down at his hat. The way it was now he didn’t really want it back on his head, which was saying something because he’d accidentally knocked a bucket of Buffalo wings on it once and still wore it afterwards. People had complained about the smell for a week. After that it only smelled that way if you shoved your face into it. He’d sure it would smell much worse now.

            He grimaced and tucked it into his back pocket. It wouldn’t dry fast back there, but when it did he figured he could always scrape the dirt off in clumps.

            The gambler was firing off into the distant, picking off several of the few wandering infected. Ellis kept close and peeled the sniper rifle from his back before doing the same. When they came to a dry patch of land they stopped.

            “Think it’s this way?” Ellis asked and nodded his face towards where he meant.

            “Sure, ‘cause I’ve been here before.” The tone was tight and the most annoyed he’d ever heard the suited man and that was saying something. And considering that Ellis had almost drown he wasn’t very appreciative of it.

            Nick knew how to get at people. He somehow knew what button to press to make anybody annoyed. Be it Coach’s weight, mocking Rochelle’s personality, or even something as simple as twisted his Keith stories around… it could sting.

            So Ellis thought a moment and picked the one thing he figured would bother Nick the most. “Ya’ll look like shit. Like, _literally_. What ain’t red on that suit’s brown. And there’s mud all in yer hair.”

            The northerner turned to him slowly. His eyebrows were up and his face was a mixture between disbelief and confusion. And then it all furrowed downwards.

            “Why in the hell are you _analyzing_ how I look?”

            Well, damn. He’d known it would backfire somehow but he hadn’t even considered that spin on the insult. Mind blank, he clamped his mouth shut and turned his face to the side.

            “Besides,” Nick voice was low and pressed, as if he was trying to remain calm. “You really think you’re much better off? Guess that’s a stupid question to ask a guy whose hat smells like Buffalo wings, though. Say another word about how I look and I drop you.” He was walking away again.

            The boy followed a moment later, unsettled by a cough in the distance. He was content to keep his head low after the lashing but when he neared Nick’s side his mind also caught up and his feet froze, as if stuck in the mud, just as his mind was stuck on the revelation.

            And then he was pulled firmly from his stance as the Smoker’s tongue snapped around his torso.

 

            Ellis had never been more tired in his life. The constant suction of the mud on his feet and thighs was draining him of his energy, and fast. His legs were chilled by the water but sweat had broken out over his forehead and re-dampened his hair. But still, Nick was surging on in front of him and if a man twelve years older was still moving, he would too.

            “Why d’ya think they built their houses under that water like this?” He asked, trying to conceal the breathlessness of his voice.

            “You’re an idiot.” Nick didn’t try to hide his and Ellis felt better.

            They moved on towards said house – although Ellis wouldn’t call it that anymore. He’d call it a bunch of planks with a roof on top. But it obviously had been a house, he noted as he moved closer, because there were tables and objects inside.

            Whether they’d be helpful or not the redneck didn’t know, but Nick was moving towards them so he just followed the lead. Once inside he moved to a table, which a shotgun rested upon, and leaned heavily upon the surface.

            Nick rummaged somewhere to his left.

            Ellis breathed deep and hopped up to sit on the elevated surface. Even though his boots remained in the water he figured it was still nice to get most of his legs out.

            “Think Ro an’ Coach are okay?”       

            “Probably.”

            Sweat dripped off an erratic curl that had somehow poked out from the rest of Ellis’ hair. Now that he was sitting prone he began to notice that it wasn’t alone, that without his hat his hair had pooled forward. And now water dripped down off the curls onto his eyelashes and nose.

            Frustrated he drew his hand up and pressed his fingers into the unruly mop and shook, sending the sweat flying.

            “What are you doing?”

            “Nothing,” Ellis said, quickly, before he’d even stopped the motion. His brown curls stuck to his forehead and he gave a quick jerk of his head to position them elsewhere.

            Nick stared at him and then glanced out of the opening of the ‘house.’ His hand tapped against the rotting cabinet next to him. “Why’s that hat mean so much to you?”

            Always glad to tell a story, Ellis didn’t let his confusion over his teammate’s sudden interest stop him. “Because I got it when I got my job. Had that job for about five years now. Me n’ Keith worked there together. An’ it’s just cool. Kinda like my shirt.”

            “Yeah, but you wear other shirts. You just wear that one hat, I’m assuming.”

            “Yeah, well… I said, it’s like yer suit.”

            “No. I have other suits. I don’t just walk around in one suit.”

            Ellis frowned and withdrew the hat from his back pocket. He pressed his fingertips underneath the brim and held it tight. “…It’s just how hats work. Ya had to-a had a hat afore.”

            “Yeah. Sure. When I was seven.”

            “Well,” the younger man whispered. “I mean… afore this, sure, it wasn’t _that_ important. I coulda gotten a new one if it ever ripped er somethin’… It just hadn’t so I was able to keep this one hat. …But now… well. I ain’t got no job now, do I? So I can’t get anymore hats.” His chest hurt.

            And Nick seemed to understand because his face softened and the squinted lines disappeared. He walked, well tried to walk, to the boy. The white hips leaned against the table.

            “Didn’t mean to make you all serious, Overalls.”

            Ellis didn’t respond but he lifted his eyes from his hat to glance out of the corner of his eye at where the older man was watching him.

            “Just didn’t know what you looked like without it. Keep forgetting you’re you.” It was a stupid joke but Ellis smiled anyway and turned his face to his companion.

            “I don’t look any different.”

            “And then you talk again and that stupid accent just ruins it all.” He smacked the back of his hand against Ellis’ thigh and turned to go.

            Ellis stopped him with a firm grip. “Nick. How’d you know that I spilled Buffalo wings on my hat?”

            “I didn’t,” Nick said, monotone. He turned to glare at the hand clasped around his. “But that’s what it smells like so I should’ve figured.”

            The younger man grinned.

            “What?” A thick brow arched over the green eye below it.

            “Can’t smell it unless yer close enough.”

            The eyebrow fell and there was a deep silence. Ellis was a little taken aback because concerning Nick the conman _should’ve_ been able to conjure a fast lie to cover his tracks. And Ellis knew that’s what he had wanted to do because the pink tongue was smoothing over his bottom lip again. But no words followed.

            “…The smell trails,” Nick murmured, lamely.

            And the redneck grinned bigger at the never-heard-before tone and somewhere in the back of his mind he wondered if his face would split.

            When the hand jerked inside his own he held tight and brought his other hand, dropping his beloved hat on the table, to stop it. He pulled a little, trying to get Nick closer. He opened his mouth to say something but he couldn’t think of anything because his mind couldn’t work through anything. Especially not why he was pleased that his teammate had ever been that close to him.

            “When?” He asked after long, awkward moments.

            The older man’s forehead was creased again. “When what?”

            “When were ya that close? ‘Cause yer never that close when we’re fightin’.”

            “Yeah, because I prefer not to have my suit ventilated, thanks.”

            Ellis ignored the insult and reached out for the other man’s opposite hand. It was a futile move because he had moved to stand with his profile towards his younger. So the redneck lifted his hand and placed it around Nick’s bicep instead and tried to draw his front towards him. “When I was sleepin’?”

            “You think I want to be near you when you’re snoring?”

            But Ellis couldn’t think of any other time. “Pretty much.”

            Nick grew pliant under his hand and when he could the mechanic slipped his hand down from the surprisingly strong arm to wrap his fingers around the wrist.

            “How come?”

            The wrist tightened against his touch as ringed-fingers curled into a fist.

            “Did you take my hat off? Is that why ya don’t like me wearin’ it?”

            “I could care less, hillbilly. Be obsessed with what you want.”

            “Well, I’m guessin’ it annoys you ‘cause you mentioned it. But like I said, it’s kinda like yer suit.”

            “God _damn_ you’re stupid.” Nick tried, halfheartedly to pull away, probably expecting the grip to have loosened.

            “’Cause,” Ellis murmured, eyes on the blue and wet dress shirt, “I don’t know what you look like without yer suit. An’ ya’ll liked me without my hat… So maybe…”

            Everything froze and the boy didn’t lift his eyes. In all honesty he was waiting for a swift punch to the jaw. But it never came, nothing did. There was only the dripping of swamp water and sweat off their bodies into the pooled darkness beneath them.

            So blue eyes lifted.

            Nick’s Adam’s apple bobbed slowly. His eyes weren’t on Ellis, they were cast downwards to the Bullshifter’s logo on the yellow chest. So the mechanic leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together.

            The older man gave an oddly decisive sigh between them and very slowly rolled lifted his face. Ellis followed the movement until their noses rested against each other’s. And then he slowly closed his eyes. And very hesitantly, softly, lips pressed against his own.

            It was barely-there but they lingered. And Ellis wondered why Nick wasn’t deepening it. And then he wondered if maybe he did smell. And then he wondered if his lips were still dry. And then he wondered if he’d made some sort of mistake… or maybe now that their mouths had touched Nick had decided…

            Nick moved back then and calmed the southern boy’s worries without even knowing them. He gave a shaky, unsure smile, but Ellis knew he wasn’t unsure of himself. He was unsure of the redneck.

            But even though their actions should’ve seemed sudden Ellis realized that maybe he was so taken with the older man for more than just the cool factor.

            He reached out his hands and stopped. His hands appeared to be made of mud themselves, the brown-gray earth having clung to him in his desperate search for his hat. Sheepishly, he swiped them against the top of his jumpsuit, a nervous, breathy laugh accompanying the actions.

            The action was futile as the jumpsuit was nowhere near soft nor dry enough to displace much of the gunk on his skin.

            “It’s alright,” Nick murmured, watching the frantic shaking of his junior’s hands. “Suit’s ruined from the swamp water anyway.”

            But Ellis wiped his hands again, wanting to show that he cared, because he really did believe the suit was just like his hat. This time, however, he wiped his hands on the chest of his shirt which was considerably softer, though thoroughly soaked itself. It seemed to work better because his skin was at least visible through the thin layer of muck.

            He tried to smile down the awkward, tense moment only he seemed to feel. Because Nick didn’t look mad or even the slightest bit annoyed. His face was relaxed and patient and those green eyes had never left Ellis’ mouth.

            So Ellis ran his tongue over his lips, which had the adverse effect of causing the older man to lean forward too quickly. The mechanic held him back firmly by the shoulders.

            And only then did Nick’s brows draw together in confused irritation.

            But the younger man just reinforced his smile and slowly slid his hands, leaving a little bit of a brown trail behind, to slip under the white jacket. He began to push it slowly off the broad shoulder to reveal the now-wet-blue shirt underneath.

            Nick’s eyes hadn’t moved from his face but his shoulders and arms were pliant as the jacket was peeled away.

            Ellis drew it away and to the side and then, very gently, folded it before setting it safely on the table beside him.

            The older man returned the smile again, nowhere near as broad, but cocky and amused. Sensing that he could move now, the gambler leaned forward to press their mouths together once again, harder this time. His tongue flicked out over the plump bottom lip before it in a slick, massaging motion.

            The lips parted to let a sigh escape but Nick moved quicker, the tongue immediately slipping into his mouth and then against his own tongue. The appendages slid together soundly and wetly and then Nick was rolling his tongue around Ellis’ and then somehow it found its way upwards, stroking at the roof his mouth and Ellis figured that should’ve grossed him out but it just all felt so good and so fluid…

            When Nick pulled away he gave another quick flick of the tongue over Ellis’ mouth and a soft suckle on his bottom lip.

            Ellis smiled without opening his eyes. When he did the gambler was staring at him, softly and expectantly.

            “What?”

            “I think ya’ll like my lips.”

            Nick snorted and shifted his weight. “You’re going to tell me nobody has ever said anything about your lips?”

            “Nah,” the southerner dropped his gaze to the slight hair peeking out from the dress shirt. “Hear it all the time.”

            “Then don’t play dumb,” Nick ordered before leaning forward in an attempt to catch said lips again. Ellis moved back and the older man stopped, eyes narrowing. The redneck wondered if he’d started a weird sex game of cat and mouse, but he hadn’t meant it and so to counteract his action he pressed his fingertips to the chest in front of him, atop the first clasped button of the dress shirt.

            “Can I take this off, too?”

            “…If I get eaten alive by bugs you’re going to be staying up all night scratching my back,” Nick warned. He’d been safe under his suit from the pinching little needles of the mosquitoes.

            Ellis nodded immediately, wondering why Nick thought that was such a punishment.

            “Fine,” the conman’s voice was low as he conceded.

            The mechanic’s fingers worked slowly until the wet fabric hung open off the conman’s shoulders and Ellis stared, forgetting that he had ever asked to take the garment completely off.

            Nick smirk was so smug it drew the boy’s gaze upwards. “Thought you wanted it off?”

            “Well,” Ellis swallowed and steadied his voice. “I don’t want’chyer back gettin’ eaten, like you said.” He stopped a moment to think, idly running his tongue along the roof of his mouth along the same path Nick’s had. “Ya want me to take off mine?”

            “Seems only fair,” the reply was barely above a whisper. But when Ellis reached to lift his shirt Nick took over, slipping his fingers underneath the hem, waiting for the toned arms to rise. As soon as they did he pulled the t-shirt up and off before depositing it in a heap on top of his suit jacket.

            Ellis knew he wasn’t ugly but it didn’t stop the flush of a formerly-unknown shyness from coloring his face and neck and chest pink. And maybe it was something—no, there wasn’t a maybe. He’d had his shirt off numerous times before and never thought about it twice.

            It was Nick. It was the way his overly-green eyes swept over him, it was the way his lips were parted and upturned in one corner, hell, it was even in his stance, slightly hunched shoulders as if to let the blue shirt hang off his body like he knew how much the sight of the loose, swaying fabric against his taught torso underneath sped up Ellis’ heartbeat.

            The southerner hadn’t known he’d been shaking until Nick set his hands upon his body. As soon as he felt the rough pads of his fingertips it was as if all the tension snapped and he felt his entire body completely loosen, as if the touch was some sort of muscle relaxant. Maybe he’d been scared of Nick’s judgment… or his own eagerness. Either way he murmured meaningless words behind his lips as his chest was massaged.

            Unfortunately from his seat, which perched him a head level above Nick, he was finding it difficult to explore as thoroughly as the other man. After all, he wanted to be fair, like Nick had said.

            He moved forward, trying to slip off the table into the water gently so his weight wouldn’t splash any more water against them or possibly attract any wandering infected.

            But Nick didn’t move back which forced Ellis to squeeze into the small space between him and the table.

            On his way down his stomach and then chest met Nick’s and very slowly he slid down the other man’s slick body until he realized there was semi-hard earth beneath his feet.

            The movement left him more flushed than before and he looked up into his teammate’s eyes timidly wanton and desperate and waiting. And Nick returned the look, purely predatory.

            His hands clamped down on Ellis’ flanks and he ducked his head quickly, mashing their mouths together in the most violent kiss the hick had ever received. He tried to keep up but Nick was all but trying to suck his lips into his mouth and then when that didn’t seem to work he nipped at both of them together, and then just the bottom one, and it almost stung enough to make Ellis gasp. The tongue moved over his bottom lip _again_ and then dipped into the line formed between the two lips.

            Ellis opened his mouth to accommodate. It felt like the air rushed from his lungs all at once because Nick _attacked_ his mouth. The older man breathed hard through his nostrils, his hands wandering and tongue following suit.

            Lightheaded, the mechanic lifted his hands to the older man’s face, hoping it would slow the pace so he could catch his breath, but the only change he felt were the scratches of stubble against his palms.

            Not that he was going to pull away because he didn’t _hate_ it, and being suffocated while making out seemed like a hell of a lot nicer way to go then having his guts ripped out.

            So he moved his hands to the back of Nick’s head, fingers moving into his hair and pressing hard against his skull. And just as he was about to succumb to the dizzying whirl of his mind the kiss broke and Nick was breathing hard against him.

            And Ellis was panting back.

            He pressed his cheek to Nick’s to avert another kiss, for the moment, so that he could fill his lungs properly and slow his pulse. However the older man wasn’t one to pass up opportunities and Ellis’ heartbeat continued beating just as hard and fast, especially when a hungry, hot mouth clamped over it and began to _suck_.

            Nick withdrew with a loud squelch of his lips and damn if the man didn’t know how to make such an annoying sound so _good_.

            Teeth came next, biting, nipping, grazing over Ellis’ Adam’s apple and throat. They were interspaced with chaste kisses and sometimes the drag of lips or the glide of a hot tongue as the dark-haired head moved lower.

            At Ellis’ pectorals Nick ducked quickly to the right, hands sliding up Ellis’ back to keep the boy still as he settled hot suction of his mouth over the boy’s nipple. The hands had been a good idea because the boy arched, but not enough to startle the older man from his work.

            Ellis had never had anything on his chest sucked before and truth be told he wasn’t even aware that those places could feel good on a man. But as he stood there, hands clutching at the table behind him, he’d wished he’d realized sooner.

            Teeth grazed the nub and the redneck made a soft sound that any louder would have strongly resembled a yelp. Nick moved on to his opposite nipple and worked that over too and Ellis wondered how red and patterned his chest would be by the end and if a person could actually get bruised nipples.

            Nick left this nipple without a goodbye bite this time; instead he dipped his head lower and began to work his tongue down Ellis’ abdomen to his stomach, practically kneeling in the muck.

            “Get back on the table,” he ordered softly, breath against Ellis’ navel, hands on the knot of his jumpsuit.

            Ellis moved to comply and then stopped suddenly. “No.”

            “No?” Nick stood.

            “Well… ya’ll got to touch me an’ everyhin’… but I didn’t really get to… So, _you_ get on the table.”

            The older man laughed then, shaking his head but as soon as he saw the serious look on Ellis’ face he stopped. He watched the boy a moment before he pressed out a deep sigh. Pushing him aside, Nick turned his back to the table and then hopped back onto it, leaning back just slightly with his weight balanced on his arms.

            Ellis grinned up at him and stood on his toes to give him an appreciative kiss. Nick returned it, gently, barely, lips supple. The hick realized he was the one setting the pace this time.

            So he kept it slow, letting their lips just press against each other’s in different directions and pressures. He slipped his tongue out once or twice but didn’t move it into the mouth above. When he pulled away he felt like he couldn’t lift his eyelids.

            “Get that look off your face.”

            “Why?”

            “Because I’m considering making it very hard for you to breathe again.”

            Ellis just continued grinning and leant up, pressing his face against the stubble that spanned across the older man’s jaw line and the very top of his neck. After a few moments he pressed a lazy kiss to the skin, and then another, and then he began to trail his mouth across, absently forgetting to purse his lips a few times resulting in his lips dragging slowly, and sometimes painfully, from the stubbled region to the smooth expanse of throat.

            Nick’s hand shot up to his hair and Ellis smirked because he _knew_ the gambler liked his lips.

            He moved them downwards, licking them now and again so they could travel relatively smoothly over the collarbone underneath him. Lower his hands were working over the muscle and skin and hair in excited circular motions, far faster than the route and pace his lips were taking.

            He paused for a moment as his mouth moved down, wondering if Nick’s nipples were as sensitive as his own. Slowly he grazed his moist bottom lip over the nub.

            And then he was promptly yanking his head back because Nick all but flew off the table to stand in front of him, hands dragging down Ellis’ lower back.

            “You said--!” But Ellis shut his mouth when Nick shot him a dark look.

            He let the northerner spin him around and then gaped a little when he bent low and hooked his arms underneath Ellis thigh and with one motion heaved the boy back onto the table. It shuddered under the force of his weight.

            Nick leaned forward then, peppering kisses over the middle of Ellis’ chest, the easiest spot for him to reach for his mouth as his hands worked quickly at the knot of the jumpsuit. Together they lifted the young hips enough to slip his work attire and boxers down just enough.

            Ellis gripped the edge of the table hard as Nick drew out his length. The rings on his fingers were… well, he didn’t know how to describe them, or anything right now because altogether, even in the muddy, smelly, water-logged ‘house’ it was the best moment he’d experienced so far.

            But he wanted Nick to experience it too.

            “What about you?”

            The gravel-voice didn’t respond but Ellis listened as a zipper was drawn down and then a wet, distinct slapping sound joined in with the ones Nick’s hand was drawing from the boy’s cock.

            Ellis spread his legs and let his weight rest completely back on the table, mouth agape and eyes shut so tightly his face scrunched. Nick was murmuring in that low voice then and Ellis wanted him to stop because he wanted to last longer.

            But when he opened his eyes all he saw was how _green_ Nick’s were, so green he couldn’t make out the pupils at all. And his cheeks were flushed and his hair had started to slip from its slicked back hold and his arms and shoulders were flexing and then his voice came out again, low, ragged, hushed, “Come on… come on.” When the gaze lifted and locked with his own and Nick whispered it out again, “Come on, Ellis.” he did.

            And through the gasp that caught in his throat he heard the older man suck in a breath, watched the gaze falter as it clouded over, and then after a few jerks they both fell silent.

            After a few moments of settling his breath Ellis straightened out his fingers from where they had gripped the edge of the table, noting how stiff they were and how hard he must’ve been holding it.

            Nick moved then, stepping away from the other’s body before zipping his pants back up. He then began to button his shirt, deftly and quickly. He kept his head down and Ellis followed the bridge of his nose downwards, like an arrow pointing to the part of the blue dress shirt Nick kept open.

            The gambler reached over and pulled his suit jacket from under the yellow shirt and replaced it on his shoulders.

            Ellis remained unmoved and silent, just watching him, so Nick drew up the t-shirt and pressed it against the boy’s abs and wiped. The mechanic just wrinkled his nose but he figured it was dirty and was never gonna get clean anyway. He took over so Nick could step back and readjust his jacket.

            He slipped the Bullshifters shirt over his head gingerly, back aching from the awkward position over the damp table. He reached down and tucked himself back into his boxers then, and only afterwards did he try to regain Nick’s eye contact.

            But the conman was still pretending to fuss over his suit.

            Ellis wondered if… well, he really didn’t want to wonder if but from what Rochelle had guessed and what Coach had known, Nick probably wasn’t the most reliant of guys when it came to new found relationships.

            Ellis lifted his hips and wrenched his jumpsuit back up, dejectedly, both upset and mad at himself for not thinking the scenario through. If it had been a woman he would’ve thought it through. If it had been anyone else he would’ve thought it through. And he knew he didn’t think a lot of things through, but sex was one thing that a person was just supposed to.

            The fabric didn’t budge; its wetness and hard material making it stingy. So he pulled again and instantly regretted it.

            The two front legs of the table snapped right at their connection points and Ellis spilled into the water below, ass first, with a giant plop.

            The water broke around him and splashed up against his face and into his eyes and nose and mouth. Ellis spit and sat there a moment before looking up slowly.

            Nick broke out into a loud laughter, and if Ellis didn’t like hearing it so much (even at his own expense) he probably would’ve told the other man to shut it before the moment could be ruined in an even worse way.

            Fortunately the older man lowered his volume by clamping his hand over his mouth – the hand he’d used on Ellis – which promptly ate the chuckles but did nothing to stop the shaking of his shoulders.

            “Shut up,” the younger man muttered and stood, picking his hat up from where it was floating in the water. “Mad at ya anyway.”

            Nick quieted then, but his voice was still quipped with amusement. “Mad? What for?”

            Ellis just lowered his gaze to Nick’s chest.

            The northerner regarded him for a moment and then the smirk was back. He stepped forward and reached down, tightening the jumpsuit around the boy’s hips and before firmly knotting it back in place. “Later, hillbilly.”

            Ellis grinned, anger dissolved almost immediately.

            “Let’s try and find some goddamn dry land first.”

            The younger man nodded and took up his gun, following his de facto leader out of the decrepit building. When he looked up he could almost laugh – dry land had been about fifty feet away from them.

            “…Are you kidding me?” Nick questioned as they ascended the slope up to a small dirt road. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

            “Look, that swamp town’s down there,” his partner said, finger pointed.

            “Good. Jesus, maybe we’ll get lucky and they’ll actually have beds.”

            “Yeah… And maybe they’ll have like… hangers for our clothes…”

            “Subtle.”


End file.
